***
After a quick stop at Dylan’s hotel, they walked over to Faneuil Hall Market Place. It had always been one of Callie’s favorite stops in Boston. Not only was it steeped in history, but it was also a fun place to hang out. There were all kinds of stores and vendors, and often there were shows performed outside on the cobblestones.
“Do you mind if we stop for a second?” Callie asked. They had just passed a vendor selling flowers near the entrance to the main food hall. “I want to see if they have any calla lilies.”
Dylan stopped alongside her. “I pegged you as more a daisy person myself.”
“Actually, my favorite flowers are roses. I don’t really care what color. My mother’s favorites were calla lilies. She named me Callie because the name reminded her of the flower.” Quickly, Callie scanned the assortment of flowers. The vendor seemed to have everything from roses and carnations to tulips and daisies, but he didn’t have one single calla lily.
“Oh well, maybe some other time,” Callie said as she started walking again.
“How about we grab something quick to eat, and then hit the Freedom Trail? If we see another florist, we can stop if you want.” Dylan pulled her close as they entered the main food hall. As usual, it was bustling with people.
Callie almost shook her head in amazement. How did he do that? Walking the Freedom Trail was one of her favorite things to do in the city. How did he know she would enjoy doing that today? He’d done the same thing in Newport. He’d taken her to some of the city’s historical sites before a great day on the beach. Granted, she told him she loved history, but Callie hadn’t really thought he was listening, rather just making polite conversation. Apparently, he’d not only been listening but had stored away the information.
“Sounds great. I haven’t walked the trail in a while.”
Dylan weaved them through the crowd, never once letting his arm leave her shoulders. “Me either. The last time I did I was at Harvard working on my Masters.”
Callie didn’t know if he kept his arm on her just so they wouldn’t get separated in the mass of people or because he liked the physical contact. Either way, she didn’t care. She was going to just enjoy the solid weight on her shoulders and how it made her feel. Special. In a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.
You’ve got it bad. She really needed to get her feelings back into perspective. But not today. Tomorrow will be soon enough for that.
“This okay for now? Then later we can have dinner in the North End. There is one place there that has the best gelato this side of Italy.” They’d stopped in front of a sub place.
Callie nodded, her mind still on her feelings rather than their lunch choices. “Sounds like a great plan. It’d be wrong to come to Boston and not eat in the North End.”
After placing their orders, she immediately whipped out the money to pay. She still didn’t like how he’d paid for her that night in Newport. While the bill now didn’t come close to the tab that night, Callie figured it was the best she could do.
“What are you doing?” Dylan asked when she handed the teenager behind the counter the money.
As she expected, it looked like he planned on arguing with her over this. “Selling my soul,” she answered. “What does it look like I am doing?”
Dylan ignored her. “Give her the money back. I’m paying for this,” he ordered the teen, his voice dripping with authority.
The teen, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, paused with his hand over the cash drawer.
“No. It’s my turn.” Callie knew people around them were watching. If it were any other person, she would take the money back and go along with them. But not this time. Not with this man. “You bought dinner in Newport, remember? So either I pay now or I don’t eat.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Callie knew her reaction was a little over the top, but she didn’t care. “Don’t even think about giving that money back to me,” she told the teen who kept looking back and forth between the two of them.
She expected Dylan to argue more. He definitely looked as if he wanted to. Eventually, he stuffed his wallet back into his jeans pocket and gave the teen a slight nod, letting him know he could proceed.
“Dinner is on me.” His voice was hard and left no room for argument.
Score one for me.
They carried their food to a bench outside not far from a small crowd which had gathered to watch a group of children perform some traditional Irish step dances. She knew by the way his jaw was clenched that Dylan was ticked because she’d insisted on paying, but she didn’t really care. Callie wasn’t going to let this relationship, or whatever it was, be one-sided when it came to covering costs.
Someone not doing exactly what he says is probably a new experience for him, she thought, biting into her turkey sub. Rather than argue with him, she suspected people usually asked how high he wanted them to jump when he gave orders. Most people with money and power seemed to think that way, or at least those she’d dealt with in the past did. She’d heard some of the crazy things the rich demanded from their workers on those television reality shows and the Internet.
Both remained silent, content to watch the show as they worked on their lunches. Or at least tried to watch the show. Callie found herself paying more attention to the people walking by them. It seemed like every woman over the age of fifteen couldn’t help but stare and check Dylan out. Not that she could blame them. Still, it annoyed her beyond belief. It was like she was invisible.
One woman in particular, a tall curvy redhead wearing painted on skinny jeans, seemed to linger near them a little longer than the rest. Callie sent her a look that she hoped said ‘back off, he’s mine.’
At least mine for now. The night before had been incredible, as had the morning’s repeat performance. Memories of earlier activities brought immediate heat to her face. Without thinking, she pressed her cup of iced tea against her cheek. The cold plastic felt wonderful against her flushed skin, but did nothing for her racing heart.
Next to her, Dylan polished off his sub and tossed his trash in the nearby can without getting up. “You’re not always going to win.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders again. “I gave in this time, but don’t get used to it.”
His statement made her wonder if he had something long-term in mind for them. Was it possible? Or was she just reading too much into his comment? Only time would tell, she guessed. “We’ll see. I can be pretty stubborn.” Callie took one more bite from her sandwich and then tossed the remains of her lunch in the trash.
“Ready to do some walking?” Dylan asked.
“You know it,” she replied, allowing him to pull her to her feet.
Following the Freedom Trail, they went by several key historical landmarks such as the site of the Boston Massacre and the Old State House. It always amazed Callie how so much key U.S. History could be mixed in among all the modern buildings.
“What do you suppose he would think of the city if he saw it today?” Callie asked. They’d stopped in front of Paul Revere’s house. “Do you think he would even recognize it?”
“I imagine he would be in awe. Just think of all the changes it’s been through. But he would probably recognize at least some of it.” Dylan began walking again. “Imagine what this place might look like in another few hundred years. We’d probably be in awe too.”
He was right. In a few hundred years, would she recognize it? Things seemed to change so quickly. Technology. Landscapes. Life.
Her life certainly had been a whirlwind of change lately. Callie was almost afraid to ask what the next few weeks and months would bring.
Heartache probably. The awful thought popped into her head. This thing with Dylan would end at some point. Yet Callie wasn’t sure she wanted to do anything differently. A man like Dylan didn’t come around every day. Why shouldn’t she take the opportunity and enjoy being with him while she could? She wasn’t hurting anyone.
The Teacher's Billionaire Page 23
